


Days Of Dust

by stelleappese



Series: Wallander [6]
Category: Wallander (UK TV)
Genre: Homophobic Language, M/M, a really fucked up family, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:58:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelleappese/pseuds/stelleappese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somebody from Magnus' past suddenly appears in Ystad and asks him to help solving a ten years old mystery. Obviously, Kurt tags along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Days Of Dust

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I have no idea where all this came from. It's probably the darkest thing I've ever written, but I tried to tone it down.
> 
> I hope there's nothing wrong with this fic, but if you have any suggestions, regarding anything, I would gladly hear about them.
> 
> Have fun ;)

These days of dust  
Which we've known  
Will blow away with this new sun

I will wait-Mumford&Sons

 

*°*°*°

 

A little ribbon of frost had crept up Magnus' window. He'd noticed as he went through a profoundly boring report about a gang of criminals that had taken to robbing summer houses. It was blatant how every single wronged party was trying to make the best of the situation, because, honestly, Magnus had met plenty of idiots, and he was still pretty sure even they knew leaving expensive stuff in a house in which they were going to spend, at best, one or two months a year wasn't exactly a brilliant idea.  
Plus, Hansson had written it. He may have been a decently good police officer, but his writing skills were arguable.  
The frost looked like a pretty embroidery, and it framed a little shard of sky and a smoking chimney. Magnus blinked. God, he needed some coffee. 

He noticed, as he walked by Kurt's office, that he was yelling at the phone. Magnus hoped he wouldn't destroy another phone, because that was beginning to look a hell of a lot like a habit.  
He made a point to check on him when he got back, after a sweet, hot cup of coffee. He could already taste it. Hopefully it wouldn't be too awful, too, but whatever, Magnus liked his coffee disgustingly sweet, and the sugar did manage to cover the burnt taste.  
Ann-Britt leaned into the resting area as Magnus was about to take a sip.  
“There's a woman here for you.”  
“A woman?”  
Magnus frowned.  
“What does she want?”  
“She told Ebba she's family.”  
The lines across Magnus' forehead deepened.  
“ _Family?_ ”  
Ann-Britt shrugged.  
“She's waiting in your office, anyhow.”  
She gave him a peculiar look, her eyes darting to the hand Magnus was flexing as he wondered. He stopped and stuffed it in his pocket as soon as he realised it.

Walking back to his office, Magnus wasn't sure whether he felt more curious about this 'family' waiting for him, or uncomfortable about how Ann-Britt had looked at him. His hand had healed completely. It kept getting a bit stiff and sore when the weather changed, but otherwise, it was perfectly fine. Did she think Magnus would cave in to the pressure? He thought of asking Kurt what he thought. Was Magnus as frail and vulnerable as a good chunk of the station seemed to think?  
Magnus shook his head as he walked inside his office, then froze.  
“Adela?”  
The woman turned to look at him. She smiled and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.  
“You look good.”  
She said, looking a bit nervous.  
“Thanks... I, hm... I don't mean to sound rude, but what are you doing here? Does this have anything to do with Jan?”  
“Oh, no, nothing of the sort. Can we sit?”  
“Yes. Right. I'm sorry, please...”  
He gestured at the chair in front of his desk, sat down himself, a bit confused.  
“I last heard of Jan about three years ago. You know what he's like.”  
“Yeah.”  
Murmured Magnus, trying to look like what she meant was nothing important. He still remembered Jan standing by the door of their childhood home, a rucksack thrown distractedly over his shoulder. He'd smiled at Magnus. He remembered how cold that night had felt, how he'd kept curling his toes against the soft red carpet that climbed the stairs.  
He'd said he would be back, Jan. The bastard. Although, if he had to be objective, he hadn't told him _when_.

“What can I do for you?”  
Asked Magnus, trying to regain some sort of professionalism.  
“My father died last year. My mother is not well enough to take care of our estate up north, so I'm thinking about selling it and investing the money, maybe buying a house somewhere less... wild.”  
She sounded like she had rehearsed her speech to be sure she wouldn't let any emotion seep through her words.  
“Has Jan ever told you anything about my sister?”  
Magnus shook his head.  
“Our relationship is not exactly that intimate...”  
“I thought so. Ten years ago my sister Cajsa disappeared. On the estate. Now that the last link... well, _my_ last link to the property has been broken, I want to get rid of it. I also want to have answers, if possible. So that I'll be able to be completely done with that wretched place once and for all.”  
“Has there been an investigation?”  
“Yes.”  
“Did they get anywhere?”  
Adela shook her head, her straight blond hair swishing about softly.  
“They said she probably ran away. But why didn't she take her car? Or any of her personal belongings? It just doesn't make any sense.”  
“Did you ask the local police to reopen the case?”  
“I did. They told me they don't have any apparent reason to do so. That's why I thought I'd ask you. Jan was always so proud of you. He used to keep the clippings of the newspapers where you turned on.”  
For some reason Magnus found it hard to believe. His brother had left his whole life behind, over and over again. Magnus included.  
“You would be remunerated, of course. I would give you a place to stay, and take care of the bills.”  
Said Adela, mistaking the thoughtful look on Magnus' face.  
“I'm not sure I could. We're always really busy.”  
“I would make it worth your while.”  
She slipped a piece of paper across the desk. Magnus raised both his eyebrows looking at the number on the cheque, then pushed it back.  
“It's not like that. I just got back from medical leave, the station is always short of personnel, I really don't think I've got time to spare.”  
Adela nodded slowly.  
“Could you at least read the file? Give me your opinion?”  
“That I can do. If you tell me in which municipality this happened I'll make some calls, too.”  
Adela took a little notebook with a Van Gogh painting printed on the front and wrote down something with slow, precise strokes, then ripped out a page and handed it to Magnus.  
“I'll keep in touch.”  
Promised Magnus, shaking Adela's hand. She smiled at him, looking a bit deflated.

It seemed she hadn't given up yet, though. It took less than an hour for a huge amount of papers to be dropped on Magnus' desk, just as he was putting his coat on and getting ready to eat something. Two plump boxes loomed in a corner for the whole day, until, after putting his coat on, Magnus sighed and grabbed them.  
Kurt wasn't done yet, so Magnus picked up Jussi and went home alone.  
He crawled under the covers, a beer on the night-table, a pile of papers scattered across Kurt's side of the bed, and Jussi snorting peacefully at his feet. His eyes burned a bit, but now that he'd started reading he found himself unable to stop.  
Magnus fiddled with a little picture of a teen-aged Cajsa. She had dark blond hair, cropped short and ruffled, Adela's blue eyes, and a little shy smile. She looked shy and smart. The weight of all the potential held inside that pretty girl felt painfully heavy inside Magnus' chest. 

Jussi's ears shot up when Kurt opened the front door. She started wagging her tail and squirming around happily, but seemed to be too comfortable to actually jump down and welcome him home.  
Kurt dug a hand through Magnus' curls as soon as he walked inside the bedroom. Magnus leaned towards him, his eyes still stuck on the papers.  
“You should get some rest.”  
Murmured Kurt, then he seemed to notice that whatever Magnus was reading lacked the Ystad Police Department logo on the corner of the page.  
“What is this?”  
“A favour.”  
Sighed Magnus, and rubbed his eyes, suppressing a yawn.  
“What kind of favour?”  
“Just reading. Maybe calling someone up in Örnsköldsvik. Do you know anybody up there?”  
“I can check, if it's important.”  
Magnus brushed his lips against Kurt's wrist, still reading.  
“I suppose you haven't given a though on where I'm going to sleep...”  
Kurt made a little nod in direction of his side of the bed, and the papers and pictures and maps on it.  
Magnus finally set down the file.  
“Actually, I figured you could sleep on me.”  
He looked at Kurt with a little grin.  
“You're feeling terribly charitable today, aren't you?”  
Smirked Kurt, brushing his thumb against Magnus' lower lip.  
“Well, get your butt under the covers and I'll show you just how much _charitable_ I'm feeling.”  
Kurt didn't have to be asked twice.

At some point in the middle of the night Magnus found himself wide awake. Kurt was curled up against him, his head on Magnus' chest, a hand securing him close.  
The night was still and hushed, the only sounds reaching them inside the house were the crashing waves a couple of miles away, the trees swishing and creaking, and a solitary owl hooting softly somewhere nearby.  
Kurt's lips were against the scar under Magnus' heart.  
He knew Kurt had a sister. He'd told him they'd been really close growing up, but ended up only hearing from each other a couple of times a year back when their father was still alive, and even less after he died. Still, Magnus supposed it had been a gradual process. He was completely positive Kristina hadn't just decided she felt like having a bit of a change and disappeared for three years, then came back, then went away again, and again, and again.  
He wondered what kind of relationship Adela had with her sister. She'd sounded controlled enough, but then again, ten years are a decent amount of time to harden up your heart.  
According to what Magnus had read, there was no way Cajsa had left Aska Island that day. There was no bridge to cross, none of the boats were missing, and the ferry hadn't even left the mainland that day, because the weather had been bad.  
She could have drowned, yes, but she would have been bound to show up somewhere, and she hadn't.  
No, as far as Magnus was concerned, Cajsa Falk was still on Aska Island, somehow.

Magnus found Kurt sitting at the kitchen table, reading through Adela's papers with a focused and vaguely grumpy expression painted on his face.  
“What does the favour consist of?”  
He asked, as Magnus poured himself some coffee and grabbed an apple.  
“The sister, Adela Falk, wanted me to go up there and investigate a bit.”  
“Judging by how little you thrashed last night I'd say you've given this some thought.”  
“I have.”  
“What do you think?”  
“I think she never left. Which means she's probably dead somewhere on the island.”  
“The police found no motive.”  
“I think it's a family business.”  
Kurt looked at him over the papers.  
“And considering how loaded they are I wouldn't put it beyond any of them to bribe someone to turn a blind eye on something.”  
“That's pretty harsh.”  
“What do you think?”  
“What if she waited? Hid somewhere and then left?”  
Magnus shook his head and got up, dragging his chair next to Kurt's and sitting down. He flipped through the pages of the file Kurt was holding and pointed at something.  
“They checked the cars and the boats. The ferry was on the other side, too. If anything, the search party has been particularly thorough.”  
“They haven't found a body, though.”  
Magnus sighed. Kurt let go of the file and stroked his hand, softly, as if afraid to hurt him.  
“It got under your skin, hasn't it?”  
“She's selling the property. Adela Falk. Once she does, Cajsa Falk will be...”  
He shrugged, turned around his hand to hold Kurt's.  
“Forgotten.”  
It was a misty day. The view from the window looked haunted.  
“Then perhaps we should do something about it.”  
Whispered Kurt.

 

For the longest time Kurt had thought Magnus hated his job. Then again, he'd thought he hated _him_ too. It baffled him how little he could understand the people he cared about, especially when he had to emotionally dissect people for a living.  
What he knew for sure was that he'd rarely seen Magnus so excited about something.  
Kurt had driven at first, while Magnus immersed himself in the files. After a few hours they switched places, and Magnus started talking, as Kurt quietly chew the sandwich Magnus had prepared for him earlier that morning.  
“August 14th 2003, the whole Falk-Olander family arrives at Aska Island for the wedding of Knut Olander, son of Tova Falk and Isak Olander, and Irene Martinez-Delgado. About fifty people, if I'm not mistaken. Nothing weird happens that day, they have a simple dinner all together, gossip, the usual. The wedding is the next day at nine AM, the ceremony lasts about an hour, then they move to Greger Falk's house, Adela and Cajsa's father and Tova's brother, to celebrate.”  
Kurt kept nodding as he followed Magnus' recap on the papers, balanced on his lap.  
“Everything looks normal until half past five PM, when Adela notices Cajsa's absence. They look around the house until about six PM, when they start looking all around the island. Her car is still where she parked it, her clothes, money, passport, everything is still in her room. The police only manages to reach Aska Island the morning after, they find nothing as well.”  
“There's a lot of statements here.”  
Murmured Kurt, flipping through the papers.  
“Did you check any of these?”  
“Some. There's a big chunk of people who were in the same room as Cajsa when she was seen for the last time and never left until Adela started worrying. About twenty-four people.”  
“Where do you want to start?”  
“From Cajsa, obviously.”

They had been given a chalet close to the beach. Two little bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen. No central heating. Just a big, old-looking fireplace. Kurt failed miserably in lighting a fire, and Magnus had to crouch down beside him, give him a little bump with his hip, and do it himself.  
“I already hate this place.”  
Muttered Kurt, rubbing his arms to warm himself up.  
“Nothing new there.”  
Grinned Magnus, setting his computer on a little table near the fireplace, pressing a button and taking a painting off the wall as he waited for it to turn on.  
“What's the plan?”  
“I'm going to need some reference. And we both need some food. There's a shop on the island, could you...?”  
“All right, all right. Any particular requests?”  
“Whipped cream?”  
Kurt shook his head with a sigh.

The lady behind the counter looked at Kurt with such an intensity it surprised him he didn't get burned. He guessed she didn't see a lot of new faces, and tried smiling at her, but she only frowned in response.  
It was a weird place, that island. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the stillness, the silence, but it gave Kurt the chills. He thought about what Magnus had said. Forgotten in a place like this, and lost, on top of it. He shivered as he put the bags in the car, feeling exposed and in danger with only the sterile light of the shop-sign to keep the darkness at bay.  
When he closed the door of the chalet behind him he felt incredibly relieved.

Magnus was sitting on the floor, looking at the wall and pouting a bit, like he always did when concentrating. Kurt made to take off his coat, then thought better of it and left it on.  
“What is it?”  
Magnus shook his head slowly, biting the inside of his cheek.  
“The internet is not working.”  
Said Magnus, but the tone of his voice said he'd completely ignored Kurt's question.  
“If you say you've worked without internet for decades I'm going to punch you.”  
He added, pointing a finger at Kurt, who raised his hands in surrender.  
“I assure you I'm not even thinking about annoying you. Have you noticed how cold this place is? I'm going to need every last bit of your affection not to die.”  
He sat down next to Magnus, groaning as his bones creaked a bit.  
“So. Cajsa Falk.”  
“Yes.”  
Breathed Magnus.  
“She was twenty-six when she disappeared. Studying psychology in Stockholm. According to her friends she was a completely normal woman. Liked live music, Asian food, and Russian literature.”  
“Boyfriend?”  
“Doesn't look like it..  
“How about her family? How were things with them?”  
“Adela and she were close enough. Knut seemed to like her a lot. They shared their interest about music, he said he'd taught her to play bass guitar when she was a girl. She didn't seem to be particularly close to her parents, or her aunt Tova. As a matter of fact, I think Tova didn't like her much.”  
“Did she say why?”  
Magnus cleared his throat.  
“'The girl is not a respectable one. I always knew she meant trouble.'”  
Kurt tilted his head a bit.  
“'Respectable'? What do you think she meant by that?”  
“Perhaps Cajsa was particularly free-spirited and her aunt was a bigoted troll.”  
“And you're saying that because of what hard evidence?”  
Magnus frowned at him.  
“None yet. But I'll get some pretty soon. _Also_ , need I remind you this is not official business and you can't boss me around?”  
“I know. Sorry about that, force of habit.”  
“Although if you wanted to boss me around some more we could arrange that.”  
He grinned.  
“I wish you'd stop with all the innuendos. I can't function properly if you distract me like this.”  
“All right.”  
Magnus stood up, grabbing both of Kurt's hands and helping him up. He unzipped Kurt's coat and let it fall on the floor, hooked a finger under his belt and tugged him towards the bedroom.

Kurt could remember with extreme clarity the morning he'd woken up next to Inga, looking at her and thinking he was never going to enjoy sex as much as when he was having it with her, just like he'd never enjoyed it as much before.  
He was wrong, of course. And a bit naïve too.  
Magnus was so completely different from anything Kurt had ever experienced. It was not just sex (he'd been there), and not just emotional attachment (done that). It was like they fit together so perfectly, even with all their differences, that there was no need for secrecy, no need to hide wishes and desires. There was no doubt, no jealousy. He was as sure of Magnus' love as he was sure that he would protect his back while on duty.  
As Magnus' fingernails dug against Kurt's chest, and his head hung, a cascade of golden curls bouncing softly, the ring attached to the thin chain around his neck swinging, Magnus bit his lips, the rhythm with which he was slamming down against Kurt's cock not faltering in the least. He groped for Kurt's hand, guiding it from his hip to his face and kissing the palm before pressing it against his cheek. He looked at Kurt through his curls, straight in the eyes, and Kurt felt utterly exposed in front of him. And he was completely comfortable with it.

“Adela Falk,”  
Kurt nodded, distracted, tracing the curve of Magnus' back with a fingertip.  
“Tova Falk,”  
He felt the little bumps on Magnus' vertebrae forcing him up and down like gentle waves.  
“Her son, Pål Olander,”  
He reached the small of his back, brushed his thumb against the fine blond hair across it, then moved back up.  
“ _His_ son, Ture Olander,”  
Magnus shoulder-blades were raised. Kurt followed the shape of both of them from the bottom to his freckled shoulders.  
“Marna Lindberg, Adela and Cajsa's mother,”  
Kurt softly thumbed the nape of Magnus' neck, where the curls were smaller and better defined. Magnus hummed softly.  
“You're really distracting.”  
“It's not my fault if you're naked.”  
“Actually, it _is_ your fault.”  
“My bad. Just these ones?”  
“Two or three more on the island, but they all had strong alibis.”  
“Doesn't really matter, we do need their memories, don't we?”  
“I was thinking I could do background checks on all of them, but without internet connection I can't see how.”  
“There was a fax machine in the grocery shop.”  
Suddenly remembered Kurt.  
Magnus rolled on his back to look at him.  
“A _fax machine_?”  
“That's what I said.”  
“Should I send Ann-Britt a carrier pigeon and tell her to fax me some information?”  
“You could call. With a land-line. Like a normal man.”  
“A _land-line_.”  
Snorted Magnus. Kurt grinned.  
“You _can_ do that, can't you?”  
“Of course I can.”  
Magnus scrambled up, shooting Kurt a slightly annoyed look and looking for his clothes. Kurt threw him his boxers with an eloquent look.

The first two people Kurt talked to were, as Magnus had predicted, completely unaware of anything important. They both reported spending a lot of the day in the living-room, drinking and eating and talking behind the bride's back. They were betting on how long it would have taken for the gorgeous Spanish lawyer to cheat on Knut Olander.  
“Did you win?”  
Had asked Kurt, sensing from the look on the first witness, a middle aged man called Felix Falk, that he really didn't want to be asked that.  
“They're still married, those two. That doesn't mean she never did cheat on him, though.”  
Kurt had repressed a grin and moved on.

The third person on his list, written according to how close each house was, would have been Adela, but he skipped her. She'd told Magnus she wouldn't be on the island until at least the next Monday, so Kurt trudged through the snow towards Tova Falk's house.  
When Kurt first introduced himself to the grim looking little old woman that opened the door things didn't go exactly as he'd hoped. She slammed the door in his face and left him out there in the snow.  
Kurt took a deep breath and rang the bell again.  
“I want to talk about Cajsa Falk.”  
He said, loudly enough for her to hear, but practically talking to the door. He was about to give up when Tova Falk opened the door again and stepped aside to let him in.

A solitary clock ticked, sounding eerie and abandoned in the complete silence of the house. Tova Falk looked at Kurt, waiting, quiet and cold.  
Her face had a strange shape, almost like a squeezed heart, thick at the top, with prominent cheekbones and little eyes, and a small pointy chin at the bottom. She had blond hair, like both Adela and Cajsa, but that was where the resemblance ended. Maybe the eyes could have been similar, had they been bigger, had she not been squinting at him.  
Kurt cleared his throat, feeling uneasy.  
“According to the police report you were in the living-room...”  
“With Marna, Knut, his whore, and about two thirds of the guests. Yes. How many times do I need to repeat myself?”  
Kurt was beginning to understand why Adela couldn't wait to sell her property and leave. He'd though _his_ family had had some problems. At least his father had only been slightly out of his mind and probably a bit of a compulsive liar, same as Inga, but neither of them had ever spit words filled with such venom.  
“Did you take part on the researches?”  
“Of course not.”  
Kurt frowned.  
“Why so?”  
“Let me tell you something about that woman. You look at those pictures they posted everywhere and she looks like a saint. She was not. She was as far from anything holy as anybody can manage to wander.”  
“Did she have any problems? With drugs, or...?”  
“She was a whore, a deviant. Didn't have a crumb of morality in her. And she wasn't ashamed about it either.”  
“When you say 'deviant'...?”  
“Depraved. Crooked.”  
She might have noticed the completely blank look on Kurt face, by then, because she sighed and lowered her voice.  
“She was living with another woman. In Stockholm. Like husband and wife.”  
“Oh.”  
Well, Magnus was right about the 'bigoted troll' part.  
“All right. Hm. Did any of the family members had any issues with Cajsa's lifestyle?”  
Something in the way he'd formulated the sentence didn't rub well with Tova Falk.  
“Of course they did. The ones who knew, obviously. Poor Greger did everything he could to help that wretched woman, he tried with God, then with doctors, but he was forced to give up when she turned eighteen and was free to leave. She broke his heart.”  
“Do you know the name of Cajsa's partner?”  
“Why on Earth would I know?”  
“I got the impression your family is, hm... really honest with its members.”  
“That's true. Nothing is more important than blood, young man. Perhaps only God.”  
“Amen.”  
Muttered Kurt, too low for her to hear.  
“I've never wanted to know, anyway. You could try and ask Knut. My boy has always had a soft heart. That's why women fooled him so easily.”  
All right, then.

He found Magnus chatting with the lady behind the counter, waiting for Ann-Britt to call him back on the shop's land-line to tell him whether she'd found anything.  
“How did it go?”  
Smiled Magnus, grabbing Kurt by the shoulders and keeping him still to try hats on him.  
“I know at least two things that are not on the police files.”  
Magnus took a step back to look at Kurt, then placed a fluffy fur hat on the counter and smiled at the woman, who blushed and giggled. Kurt suppressed the need to roll his eyes.  
“And what are those?”  
“First: Tova Falk is a misogynist, bitter, profoundly evil woman.”  
“Nice.”  
“Second: Cajsa Falk had a girlfriend in Stockholm.”  
Magnus looked at him, suddenly serious.  
“Did you ask...?”  
“Apparently Greger Falk knew about his daughter's sexual orientation and didn't approve. From what I gathered he tried having somebody 're-educate' her, but it obviously didn't work as he would have liked it.”  
“Jesus Christ...”  
“According to Tova Falk not everybody was aware of this. I'm not sure how much I can trust her words, though, since she's obviously living in some sort of warped reality in her head, but still.”  
“That could be a motive.”  
“It could.”  
“Tova has an alibi, though. So does Greger. He was with Adela when Cajsa was last seen, and they were still together when Adela noticed Cajsa was missing.”  
“Maybe somebody else knew.”  
“But... it can't be just that, can it?”  
Magnus passed a hand through his hair, thoughtful.  
“We're talking family here. I mean, I know some families are... less than accepting, but why do something of the sort then? She'd moved to Stockholm, she was far away from her family's social circle, she couldn't do any harm.”  
Kurt shrugged.

 

Ann-Britt was still searching. Magnus had decided to leave Kurt with the fax and have a talk with the next two people on the list. Pål Olander lived in a small red house in the middle of the evergreen woods in the centre of Aska Island. From the looks of it Magnus could tell Pål Olander must be the sort of man who didn't enjoy social interactions. It wasn't a house made to look presentable to strangers. It was more like a big and particularly comfy looking hunting cabin.  
There was a boy sitting on steps to the porch with a big bucket between his legs. He was skinning rabbits, Magnus realised, with a quick, firm hand. Magnus had to remind himself that he was a grown man and a police officer and he shouldn't be squeamish about that sort of things.  
He stepped forward, and the boy looked up at him, a bit surprised. Thankfully, he stopped tearing skin and fur off those poor little things.  
“Hello. My name is Magnus Martinsson. I'm...”  
“The police guy.”  
Said the boy, slowly, then smiled at him.  
“My dad told me you were going to show up. He's not home, by the way.”  
“Where is he?”  
The boy, obviously Ture Olander, shrugged.  
“Do you know when he will be back?”  
“Probably not until late.”  
“You're Ture, right?”  
He nodded and smiled again. Even though he shared Tova Falk's blood Ture was really pretty. He had dark blond hair that reached his shoulders and kept falling into his face, and really gorgeous eyes. Deep blue, slightly almond-shaped. Magnus smiled back and stepped closer.  
“Can I sit with you?”  
“Sure.”  
Ture hurried gathering dead rabbits in the bucket and set it aside, moving a bit to let Magnus squeeze in.  
“I'm here about Cajsa.”  
Ture nodded slowly, looking at him. He looked a bit lost, definitely innocently concerned.  
“Do you remember anything at all about that day?”  
“My dad said I could drink some wine. I tried a little bit, but it wasn't really good. Martin wanted me to drink it all, though, he pushed the cup against my face but I wouldn't drink it, and it spilled on my shirt, so I had to come back home to change.”  
“Alone?”  
“With my dad. When we went back Adela was freaking out, going from room to room looking for Cajsa.”  
“Did you know her well?”  
“Adela?”  
“Cajsa.”  
“Oh. Hm. Not really, no. She wasn't around much. I know she was studying in Stockholm, though. She was nice.”  
He added, his voice lowering a bit, like he was afraid to admit something good about her.  
“Did you ever talk about her with your father?”  
Ture shook his head.  
“My dad is not... he doesn't really talk much.”  
Magnus looked around. The file said Ture's mother, Karina Gustavson, still lived on Aska Island, but Ture hadn't mentioned her once.  
“How about your mother, where is she?”  
Ture's features stiffened for a second. He set his jaw and looked at his hands.  
“I don't know.”  
“Did she leave?”  
“Yes.”  
“When did that happen?”  
Ture looked at him, his pretty eyes completely serious and deeply sad, and Magnus sighed.  
“It's all right, you don't need to answer.”  
“You can come back tomorrow. Maybe in the afternoon. Dad will be tired when he gets back.”

Kurt looked particularly adorable when Magnus walked inside the shop. He was sitting near the heater, and between the coat and the fur hat he looked like an oversized teddy bear.  
“Ann-Britt called. She said she has work to do but will find somebody to put in front of the fax tomorrow morning. Also, I called Knut Olander.”  
He fished his notebook from a pocket.  
“He said Cajsa was a really intelligent young woman, sensitive and perceptive. He helped paying for her education. He sounded like a good man.”  
“What about Cajsa's girlfriend?”  
“Riikka Mäkinen. I asked Ann-Britt to check on her too.”  
“You've been way more productive than I. Pål Olander wasn't home, so I could only talk with Ture. He's...”  
Magnus wasn't entirely sure how to say it.  
“He's twenty-six isn't he?”  
“Yes.”  
“Well, he felt... younger.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I don't think he's stupid, it's like his...”  
He gestured around, not knowing precisely what he was trying to say.  
“He doesn't have the maturity of a twenty-six years old.”  
Kurt shrugged.  
“Does that help us in any way?”  
“I don't know, he was just weird, all right? He was skinning rabbits when I got there.”  
Kurt made a face.  
“Maybe he just likes game?”  
“It's not about the rabbit part, it's something else. I don't know what. Not exactly.”  
Kurt shook a little look at the owner of the shop, then seemed to decide he didn't really care enough and stepped towards Magnus, resting his forehead against Magnus' collarbone, his hands ghosting softly on Magnus' waist.  
“This place gives me the creeps.”  
He muttered, muffled by Magnus' coat.  
“You should go home.”  
“What about you?”  
“I need to make a call. It won't take long. You can take the car, I'll walk back.”  
“I can wait.”  
Kurt looked up at Magnus, unsure.  
“Go home.”  
Smiled Magnus, pressing a little kiss against Kurt's forehead.

Magnus looked at the phone for what seemed like hours, though the clock on the wall behind the counter told him only a couple of minutes had passed.  
The wind was blowing harder now, and Magnus remotely regretted telling Kurt to take the car. He regretted asking him to leave, too. He wondered if maybe he should tell him about Jan. But that would probably lead to a talk about his family, and Magnus really didn't want that. Not yet, at least.  
Thinking about it, he wasn't even sure Jan was going to pick up. He could have changed his number. He could have finally disappeared for good from the face of the Earth.  
Magnus had last seen him maybe five or six years before, when he suddenly appeared at his doorstep with Adela. He stayed one night, talked a lot, completely ignored just how hurt and angry Magnus had looked.  
Magnus picked up the phone. He remembered the number by heart. Of course he did.  
He felt his heartbeat speed up and decided to sit on the precarious looking chair in the corner. More than once he was tempted to slam the receiver down and run to Kurt, but he didn't.  
“Hello?”  
Magnus swallowed, feeling like he was twelve again, lost and abandoned.  
“Jan, it's Magnus.”  
Silence. The sound of the wind blowing in the distance.  
“Is everything all right?”  
Asked Jan, sounding slightly alarmed, ready to jump. Like he would ever do that. He would probably just turn the other way and run as fast as humanly possible.  
“Everything's fine. Adela came to see me about a Cajsa. I was hoping you could give me some insight on the family.”  
He heard Jan breathe out. Of course he was going to feel relieved, after all he was really good with meaningless conversation.  
“You shouldn't get involved with those people, little one.”  
“They don't seem to have any criminal connection, if that's what you're implying.”  
“No, they're just completely bloody crazy. No wonder Cajsa wanted to disappear, she was surrounded by such hateful people. And they were family, too. The things they said behind each other's back...”  
“You think she's alive?”  
“I hope so. She was a sweet kid.”  
“You weren't on Aska Island, though, were you?”  
“No, I was in Norway. I called Adela a couple of hours before Cajsa disappeared, she told me she thought her father was still mad.”  
“At her?”  
“At Cajsa. She wanted to get married, you know. He was an old man, and from what I understand his parents were terribly religious. You can tell, too, by looking at Tova. She would have been better off in a nunnery, that one.”  
“Why do you say that?”  
Magnus balanced a notebook on his knees and started taking notes, locking the phone between ear and shoulder.  
“I once heard Pål yelling at her for caning the boy. The cute one, Ture.”  
“ _Caning_?”  
“Yes. She should never have been hallowed to have kids. Knut was all right, but only because Isak sent him away to school. Pål... Who knows what sort of damage she could have done to him.”  
“What is he like? Pål Olander?”  
“Charming enough. Cold. He was never around too much, kept disappearing in the woods with the boy. I had a bad feeling about him.”  
“Why?”  
Jan went silent for a moment, as if trying to find the right words.  
“It was his eyes, I think. You could see emotions on his face, but not in his eyes.”  
“All right...”  
Magnus underlined Pål Olander's name twice.  
“One last thing. Can you think of any reason why somebody would have wanted Cajsa out of the picture?”  
“Well, Tova was crazy enough to think she was doing God a favour. Greger was probably worried about what his old fashioned playmates would say when they found out Cajsa was a lesbian. And...”  
“And?”  
“You know Greger owned most of the island, right? There were maybe six brothers in the beginning, but he was the serious one. He bought the island off them all, except for Tova. He was a very rich man.”  
“What are you trying to say?”  
“That Adela is now a very rich woman, I suppose.”  
There was a moment of silence. Magnus was about to hang up when Jan talked again.  
“What about you? How are you?”  
Magnus looked outside the glass-door, to the gloomy, dark, day outside, and the little circle of light the shop-sign let out.  
“I'm good.”  
“I read about that crazy woman in the papers.”  
“I'm fine. I can stand to be scrambled about without crumbling, can't I?”  
“Magnus...”  
“I need to go.”  
“He seems nice.”  
Magnus realised he'd clutched his hand so tight around the side of the counter his knuckles had turned white.  
“I'm sorry?”  
“Wallander. He seems nice.”  
“He is.”  
“Good. At least I know you're being taken good care of.”  
Magnus made a face.  
“I need to go. Goodbye.”  
He hung up before Jan could answer, rubbed his eyes and sighed deeply.

Back to chalet, Kurt had managed to make dinner without any major damages to the house or himself. Magnus sat in front of him and watched him as he ate. The house was silent, except for the creaking of the fire and the acorns falling on the roof from time to time. It smelled of fire and tomato soup, and Magnus was really glad he was indoors. It was as if Kurt's presence in a house was enough to make it home.  
“It's going to get cold.”  
Said Kurt. Magnus frowned.  
“I'm sorry?”  
“The soup. If you don't start eating it's going to get cold.”  
Magnus found himself thinking about his parents. About Jan. Did he ever love any of them as much as he loved Kurt right that moment? He loved Jan, of that he was sure. It wouldn't have hurt that much otherwise. His parents were strangers to him. The truth was that Kurt was his family, probably the only family he'd ever known.  
“I told you I have a brother, didn't I?”  
He talked slowly, looking at the soup in his plate.  
“Yes. Jan, if I'm not mistaken.”  
“Jan. Yes.”  
Magnus could feel Kurt's eyes on him. He wasn't sure he wanted to meet them right that moment. He needed to remain composed long enough to tell him.  
“He and Adela used to be married. That's why she came to me.”  
“Why didn't you tell me?”  
He sounded cautious, Kurt. Magnus almost smiled at his tone. He used to have to spell things out for Kurt. I want you, I love you, you're perfect to me. Now it only took him a couple of seconds to sense something wasn't right.  
“He left. Jan. When I was twelve. We didn't exactly have, hm, and idyllic relationship with our parents. I guess he couldn't take the pressure.”  
Magnus didn't want to cry. He'd never cried in front of Kurt. He was supposed to be the emotionally stable one.  
_He left me alone_ , he thought, and the only reason why he didn't say it out loud was because his throat felt too tight. He quickly dried a tear from the corner of his eye with the back of his hand, tried to calm down.  
Kurt stood up and circled the table, putting a hand on the back of Magnus' head and pushing him closer. Magnus hid his face against Kurt's chest and screwed his eyes shut, trying to regain control.  
Kurt didn't move until Magnus had relaxed against him.  
“Are you all right?”  
Magnus nodded. He was still feeling slightly shaken, and wasn't sure his voice would be steady, so he didn't talk. Kurt dragged a chair next to the one Magnus was sitting on. Their shoulders and knees touched.  
“Eat your soup.”  
Whispered Kurt, with a little kind smile reverberating in his eyes.

The bedroom they shared looked terribly cold, so they ended up on the floor in front of the fireplace, wrapped in a heavy quilt, their notes spread on the floor.  
“The weirdest thing was what he said about Adela.”  
Magnus pointed at his notebook and Kurt leaned to read.  
“What do you think he meant?”  
“I have no idea. If he thought Adela would be able to kill her own sister for money... well, it doesn't make sense at all. Greger Falk had refused to give Cajsa any money. That's what Knut Olander said, right?”  
“He said...”  
Kurt flipped through the pages.  
“That he paid for her education.”  
“Do you think she'd been disowned? Maybe discreetly, without giving anybody reason to gossip?”  
“That's actually very likely.”  
“So Adela would have no reason to feel threatened.”  
“I'll check on that with Knut Olander tomorrow morning. What about Pål Olander?”  
Magnus shrugged and looked up at his picture, taped on the wall along with some basic information. He'd had to build a little family tree, because he kept getting confused.  
Pål Olander had Ture's eyes, but darker, shorter hair, and his face was shaped a bit more like his mother's. Magnus wasn't sure if Jan's words were influencing him, or maybe the picture just looked impersonal, but his eyes did look cold. Same shape, same colour, but none of Ture's good-nature.  
“We should talk to him. Maybe tomorrow.”  
“I thought I could talk with Adela, tomorrow.”  
“In the morning?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then I'll go wait for Ann-Britt to fax us whatever she's found, and once we're done we could go talk with Pål Olander together.”  
He brushed his nose against Kurt's cheek. He was exhausted and could feel a creeping gloominess threaten to fill his chest if he kept thinking about Jan and their parents.  
“Let's go to bed.”  
He murmured, and pushed a little kiss against Kurt's neck.  
Kurt nodded.

They threw the quilt on top of the blankets and curled up underneath them, snuggling as close to each other as they could manage to get.  
Kurt kept nibbling at Magnus' lower lip, his fingers curling over his hip.  
Magnus smiled against his lips. He threw an arm over Kurt's waist and cuddled against his chest, closing his eyes.  
As he dozed off, comfortable in the warmth of Kurt's body and cradled by the steady beating of his heart and the feeling of his fingertips tracing circles against the small of his back, Magnus felt utterly safe.  
“I'm not going to leave you.”  
He thought he heard Kurt whisper.

It took a lot of self-control for Magnus to get up, the next day. The house was freezing cold, and Kurt was so warm and comfortable. The prospect of a cold shower and a long walk through the snow wasn't precisely ghastly, but something really close to that.  
As he came out of the bathroom, dressed and wrapped in a blanket, he glanced out of the window and stopped in the middle of the kitchen.  
It was snowing. Now too hard, just soft plump flakes dancing around. Aska Island looked so peaceful. It was such a gorgeous sight, the sea, metallic and still, and the dark green islands in the distance, decorated by the falling snow.  
Kurt came out of the bedroom and sneaked under Magnus' blanket, hugging him and shivering softly.  
“It's snowing.”  
Said Magnus, wrapping an arm around Kurt's shoulders. Kurt hummed briefly and dug a hand under Magnus' shirt to try and steal some of his warmth.

Eva, the owner of the shop, smiled at Magnus as he walked in, followed by the shrill ringing of the bells above the door.  
“A lady from Ystad has left a message for you.”  
She said, happy to have something to talk about.  
“She said to call as soon as you got here.”  
“I'll do that right away. Thank you for being so patient with me.”  
Eva blushed, beaming at him.  
The familiar noises from the station buzzed in the background when Ann-Britt picked up her phone.  
“Höglund.”  
“It's Magnus.”  
“You took your time.”  
“I had to climb through the snow, give me a break. Did you find anything?”  
“Nothing weird on Tova Falk. Greger Falk also seems clean. I think I found something on Pål Olander, though.”  
Magnus heard her move some papers.  
“I'll fax you everything straight away.”  
“Did you find anything about his wife?”  
“That's the whole point. She moved to Canada. Fifteen years ago.”  
Magnus was about to ask something when the bells on the door rang softly and Ture walked in, his eyes fixed on the floor.  
“I'll call you back.”  
“I don't know when I'll be free. I'm leaving Peters here to fax you the files.”  
“All right, thanks.”  
He hung up, waved at Ture, who smiled shyly.  
“How's it going?”  
“Pretty good, thanks. How about you?”  
Ture shrugged and raised a hand to show him the red basket he'd picked up at the counter.  
“I thought we still had stuff to make sandwiches, but...”  
His thoughts seemed to drift somewhere else. He caught himself, smiled at Magnus again, and started picking ingredients. Ham, cheese, pickles. Magnus followed him.  
“How's school going?”  
Ture looked at him.  
“School?”  
“Yes. You look old enough to be attending uni, right?”  
“I dropped out, actually. I don't really need to work. And dad needs my help anyway.”  
“With what?”  
“The house, I guess...”  
Karina Gustavson had moved to the other side of the world. Magnus only knew two reasons strong enough to leave one's family like that. Either she fell in love or she was afraid.  
“Doesn't it get boring?”  
Magnus wanted to keep Ture talking. Luckily Ture tried his best to avoid eye contact, and that meant Magnus could study him more freely. He couldn't see any bruises, but with the amount of clothing that weather forced them to wear he couldn't be sure of it. He noticed his nose looked like it had been broken, but it didn't look recent. He remembered Jan telling him about Tova caning him. Magnus had assumed he meant she caned his bottom, maybe the back of his thighs, but he couldn't be sure that was what happened.  
“I'm always really busy, actually.”  
Ture looked up at him, noticed him looking at his nose and blushed.  
“How did that happen?”  
Ture's eyes hesitated on the door, then moved back to Magnus.  
“I had a hickey on my neck. Grandmother didn't like that. She's old, you know, she's not...”  
“Ture.”  
He flinched, turning quickly to look at the man standing near the counter. He gave Magnus a short apologetic look and hurried towards his father.  
Pål Olander had grown a beard. He was balding and stern. He would have looked handsome, had he not been staring at Magnus like he wanted to gut him.  
Magnus was already walking towards him, formulating questions in his head, when Eva called him.  
“Your documents are coming through.”  
Magnus nodded and went to check on the fax. When he turned back Ture and Pål Olander were gone. They'd left some money on the counter and left.

 

There were things missing, here and there, in Greger Falk's house. A painting, a piece of furniture, a carpet, a drapery. Some rooms where covered in white blankets. The house looked dormant.  
Adela Falk shook Kurt's hand and made way to the kitchen on the back of the huge house.  
“I live in Stockholm, now. My mother is the only reason why I still haven't cut the electricity in here.”  
She explained, making some tea.  
“Your mother still lives here?”  
Marna Lindberg. Kurt had wondered where she was, because her name was in the list but Adela hadn't told them where her house was.  
He looked out of the wooden windows, to the frozen vegetable garden and the woods in the distance.  
“I tried convincing her to move somewhere else. Somewhere warmer. She's in love with the house, you know. Her mind is playing tricks on her, and... I'd rather have her in a familiar place.”  
Kurt had a brief vision of his father walking through the snow outside the window, trailing paintings on his way. Did Marna Lindberg have Alzheimer's too?  
“Your cousin told me something interesting earlier today.”  
Adela set a cup in front of Kurt, her smile a bit strained.  
“Did he?”  
“He said he briefly met your father on the way to his office to meet you, the day of the wedding. Cajsa was still in the living-room around that time, but he said Greger Falk told him she was going to meet the two of you later on.”  
“That's true. I must have forgotten about it. That's why I went looking for her, she never showed up.”  
“What did she want to talk about?”  
“She never had the chance to tell us.”  
“Did she look worried? Anxious?”  
Adela shook her head.  
“She looked...”  
Her brows knitted in concentration. She stood up, crossed her arms and looked outside.  
“Determined. Like she had her mind fixed on something.”  
“Could that have been the wedding?”  
“The wedding?”  
“ _Her_ wedding.”  
Adela looked at Kurt for a second, then shook her head.  
“That was just an idea. Knowing her, she would have done it in the most reserved way possible and maybe sent us a note.”  
“Was your father worried about it?”  
“About Cajsa and Riikka? Of course he was.”  
“Enough to do something drastic?”  
Kurt had expected the rage in her eyes. Adela looked like she wanted to hit him.  
“My father would never, _never_ have hurt Cajsa. He was a good man.”  
“Your cousin told me he disowned Cajsa when he found out about Riikka.”  
“He acted impulsively. He didn't mean that.”  
“He went through the legal procedure, though.”  
“He changed his mind.”  
Roared Adela, making Kurt jump.  
“My father was a good man. Cajsa had never been as loyal to this family as I have, and he still loved her. He changed his mind.”  
She sat down, looking so hurt Kurt almost regretted pushing her like that.  
“We had a cousin on uncle Isak's side. He was fifteen when they sent him to this... they called it a summer camp. To heal him of his perversion. That's what aunt Tova said. I don't know what happened there. Dad knew. It changed him, finding out, because he'd done the same to Cajsa without knowing it. He killed himself, the boy.”  
She smiled bitterly.  
“I remember him, too. He was this little chubby thing. Åke. He wasn't even seventeen yet, when he died.”  
She brushed a tear off her cheekbone, looking like she was shooing an annoying insect.  
“Dad was getting the papers ready. He wanted to wait until everything was set before he told Cajsa.”  
“So you weren't going to discuss this matter, that day?”  
Adela shook her head.  
“Cajsa asked us. She grabbed my arm after the ceremony and told me she needed to tell me something, and to wait for her around five. Dad and I went to his office earlier because we couldn't stand the noise. We've always been alike, the two of us.”  
“You started worrying just half an hour after the time of your appointment.”  
“Cajsa was extremely precise. That's what the... summer camp left her. She was obsessed with routines and numbers. She would never have been late.”

Adela walked Kurt back to the main door, silently.  
“I felt betrayed.”  
She confessed, as Kurt walked out in the snow.  
“That my father would forgive her like that. I didn't know, of course. They never told me what they'd done to her. My father did, later on. But when I found out he forgave her I felt like that meant my loyalty and love had lost their value.”  
Kurt wasn't sure what to answer to that.  
“I loved my sister.”  
Adela added, looking straight at him. Kurt believed her. 

The snow stopped as Kurt was half-way to the shop. He stopped, too, seeing Magnus walking towards him with a bundle of papers under his arm.  
“Any news from Ystad?”  
“All circumstantial, but nonetheless.”  
Magnus waved the papers.  
“Karina Gustavson has moved to Canada fifteen years ago. She was in such a hurry she never even actually divorced Pål Olander. She was a regular at the ER back on the mainland. According to her husband she was terribly clumsy.”  
“That's pretty eloquent evidence if you ask me.”  
“It seems to run in the family, too. When Pål Olander worked in Köpmanholmen, from around 2000 to the beginning of 2003, Ture was left in the care of Tova Falk. He was often at the ER too, fallen off stairs, quarrels with friends, accidents while playing soccer. In March 2003 Pål Olander left his job in a hurry and came back. It happened to be around the time Ture broke his nose. Well, Tova broke his nose. With a cane.”  
“What the hell is wrong with these people?”  
Magnus shrugged.  
“I met him in the shop. Pål Olander. I didn't have the time to ask him anything, but the way he looked at me...”  
He shivered. A drop of melted snow dripped off the end of one of his curls, making it bounce like a spring.  
“He wanted to hurt me. I'm sure of that.”  
“What were you doing?”  
“Talking with Ture. He obviously doesn't want his son to talk to us. At least not unsupervised.”  
“That's not surprising, really.”  
“Not surprising. Suspect? Very much so.”  
“Well, we'll see what he has to say on the matter soon enough...”  
A shot cracked through the still air. Before Kurt had the time to realise what had happened Magnus had already dropped the papers and pushed him on the ground, putting a hand behind his head to keep it down and covering him with his body. Another shot followed. Kurt saw Magnus trying to shift to grab his gun without moving too much, but by the time he'd managed to do that everything was silent again. Completely silent, too. The sparse brave birds that had never left the island had stopped chirping in the trees.  
Magnus helped Kurt up, scanning the woods with his eyes, his lips pressed together so hard they lost colour.  
“Let's go home.”  
Said Kurt, regretting the shudder in his voice. Magnus nodded, but didn't put away the gun until Kurt had gathered the papers and started walking.

“I'm guessing this means we're on the right track, at least.”  
Puffed Kurt, looking at the holes at the knees of his trousers.  
Magnus had put four huge pots full of water on the burners. Kurt looked at him, curious.  
“This bloody cold is seeping through my bones. I don't care what I have to do, I'm taking a hot bath today.”  
He looked ruffled and pissed off. Kurt sighed.  
“What do you think? Adela or Pål Olander?”  
“Probably Pål Olander...”  
Magnus rubbed his eyes.  
“We need to talk to him.”  
“Not today. Today we rest, take a bath, eat something hot, and spend the rest of the day in bed. Yes?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
Answered Kurt, trying not to grin, or to let Magnus notice precisely what his commanding tone of voice had just done to him.

As far as sex went, not a lot of things could compare with the way Magnus liked to suck Kurt's cock, taking it all the way down his throat and keeping enough concentration to push two fingers inside Kurt, curling them up infuriatingly slowly.  
The position also gave Kurt and excuse to grasp at those gorgeous curls of his, which was always a pleasant thing to do.  
There was a felling of urgency, in the way Magnus was moving, that Kurt rarely found in him. He straightened up, licking his glistening lips and looking at Kurt for a fraction of a second before leaning to kiss him deeply. Kurt bit his lip as he tried to move away.  
He wanted to ask Magnus if he was upset, if he needed him to do anything, but Magnus was already hoisting Kurt's legs up and pushing inside him, slowly, in little soft thrusts.  
Kurt's face felt hot. He made a tiny little noise and closed his eyes, stroking his cock without too much conviction.  
He felt Magnus move between his legs, leaning forward and grabbing Kurt's waist for leverage. Kurt opened his eyes in time to see Magnus closing the distance between them and kissing him. Kurt wrapped his arms around Magnus' shoulders and deepened the kiss just as Magnus' movements got deeper, quicker, making Kurt shiver and gasp. He wanted to keep kissing him, but his level of concentration was dropping considerably. He pushed his forehead against the crook of Magnus' neck, panting heavily and not even trying to gulp down the moans escaping from his lips.  
Kurt felt Magnus bite his earlobe before pushing his lips against his temple. He could feel himself talking but wasn't precisely aware of what he was saying.  
Magnus came first, shaking a bit but not staying still too long before taking off the condom and throwing it in the bin. He wrapped his hand around both Kurt's cock and his own and stroked and bucked his hips almost desperately until Kurt arched his back and spilled all over his stomach.  
Magnus went still for a moment, panting, before letting out a little content moan and laying down on top of Kurt, trailing little kisses all over his throat.

“Do you think Pål Olander is a reliable witness?”  
Kurt had been about to doze off. He blinked a couple of times after Magnus spoke.  
“I'm sorry?”  
“Ture strikes me as an easily manipulable person. I think it's not unlikely he could have lied for his father, or his grandmother.”  
“Tova Falk is a bitter and hateful woman, but I don't think she's the type to get her hands dirty.”  
“What do you think she wanted to tell them?”  
“To Adela and Greger Falk?”  
“Yes.”  
Kurt shook his head.  
“You think whatever Cajsa wanted to tell them got her killed.”  
“Maybe.”  
He traced a line across the palm of Kurt's hand with a fingertip.  
“We never traced Riikka Mäkinen. Do you think she knows something?”  
Magnus leaned over the edge of the bed, grabbing his notebook, abandoned on top of his clothes.  
“Ann-Britt did give me her number. Do you think the shop is still open?”  
Kurt didn't really enjoy the thought of getting out that warm, comfortable bed. Or letting Magnus get off him, for that matter. But Magnus was right, they needed to get in touch with Riikka Mäkinen, the sooner the better.

They drove to the shop. It had started snowing hard, and Kurt was regretting ever leaving the chalet. The shop looked like a lighthouse in the middle of a frozen, otherworldly land. The owner of the shop, Magnus called her Eva, offered them some hot coffee. Kurt guessed he had to thank Magnus' pretty arse for that, judging by how she couldn't get her eyes off of it.  
Magnus let Kurt sit on the only chair in the corner and leaned against the wall, the receiver balanced between the two of them.  
Riikka Mäkinen had a vague Finnish accent. She sounded suspicious, but calmed down when Kurt told her the reason of the call.  
“Was Cajsa worried about something?”  
“She was really reserved. She didn't like to discuss things, not until she'd found a solution herself.”  
“Did you sense anything going on with her? Did she look concerned?”  
“She was working on something. I thought she might be studying, but...”  
“But?”  
“She was always so orderly. Except the weeks before going to Aska Island. Her books were everywhere, she was taking a lot of notes, scribbling everywhere.”  
“Did you have the chance to read any of her notes?”  
“No. As I said, Cajsa was really reserved, and I respected that.”  
“She didn't happen to talk about her family, did she?”  
“She loved her sister and their father. And Knut. He visited a lot. They were really close. I don't know much about the rest of the family.”  
“How about Pål Olander?”  
“She may have mentioned him. Knut's brother, right?”  
“Yes.”  
“I remember her talking about the little one. Ture.”  
“Do you remember what she said?”  
“That he'd changed.”  
“Changed how?”  
“I don't know. I told her he was growing up, and that sort of things happen to kids. She didn't say more. She really cared about him though. He came to Stockholm some days before the wedding.”  
“He did?”  
“Yes.”  
“Do you remember anything about it?”  
“Only that she baked chocolate chip cookies for him. Nothing more. I wasn't home when he came here, she told me afterwards.”  
Kurt thanked her and looked at Magnus.  
“Tomorrow morning. I'll talk with Pål Olander, you talk to the kid.”  
Magnus nodded.

Pål Olander offered Kurt coffee. The living-room of his house was small and stuffy, dark in the pale light of that February morning.  
“Where were you when Cajsa disappeared?”  
“In the living-room. I didn't see her leave, I was busy with Ture. He can be terribly clumsy, when he's around people. He gets intimidated really easily.”  
“You noticed she was gone?”  
“Barely. My mother told me she'd left about ten or fifteen minutes before Ture and I.”  
“Did you know her well?”  
“Not really. Knut was a lot closer to her. Probably because they were closer in age.”  
“What was her relationship with Ture?”  
Pål Olander's expression didn't falter, but his eyes felt disconnected from the rest of his face. He squeezed the handle of his easy-chair, started drumming his fingers when he noticed Kurt looking.  
“She had no relationship with Ture. They might have played together a bit when he was little, before she moved away, but it ended there.”  
“Are you sure about this?”  
“Completely.”  
“Do you know of any reason why anybody would want to hurt Cajsa?”  
“Who says she hasn't just ran away?”  
Pål Olander tilted his head while looking at Kurt. Kurt suddenly found himself aware of the fact something was slightly off with that man. He wasn't sure what that was, though.  
“What makes you think she did?”  
Pål Olander shrugged, an innocent expression painted on his face, everywhere except the eyes.  
“She used to disappear all the time. Leave the house without telling anybody, come back at any hour of the night, at times pissed drunk.”  
“And you know this how?”  
“You can see uncle Greger's house from my mother's house. She suffers of insomnia, my mother.”  
Suddenly, Kurt understood what it was.  
Magnus had told him he'd had the impression that Pål Olander had wanted to hurt him. That was it. There was something violent about him. Something barely contained.  
Kurt thought of Karina Gustavson, of how she fled as far as she could get, how she even left her son behind to be able to escape the man now sitting in front of him.  
Had he hurt Cajsa? And if yes, why?  
“What did you think of her?”  
“Of Cajsa?”  
“Yes.”  
He shrugged again.  
“Nothing in particular. She didn't talk much, she basically just pouted and muttered sarcastically. One thing I know for sure: She could have used minding her own business a bit more.”

 

Magnus found Ture sitting on a little stool under a tree, silently polishing every piece of a disassembled gun.  
“Do you have a permit for that?”  
Asked Magnus. Ture looked up at him.  
“Yes. Well. Not for this one, it's not mine, it's my dad's. I don't like guns, I'm more comfortable with hunting rifles.”  
“Do you like hunting?”  
Ture nodded.  
“It's not like I do it for fun, we do eat what we kill.”  
Magnus dug his hands in his pockets.  
“I need to tell you something.”  
“Hm.”  
“I found your mother.”  
Ture looked at him, his eyes big and shocked.  
“You did? Where is she? Is she all right?”  
“As far as I know, yes. She's in Canada.”  
“Canada?”  
“Yes. Ture, do you know why she left?”  
He started playing with a piece of the gun, undoing his work and filling it with fingerprints.  
“She wasn't happy here.”  
“Are you happy here?”  
Ture's hand jerked, making the component he was fidgeting with fall with a little clink on top of the rest of the pieces.  
“I'm happy here.”  
He answered, after a couple of second of silence.  
“Why wasn't she happy?”  
“My dad is not an easy person to live with.”  
“Has he ever hurt her?”  
Ture didn't answer. He just crossed his arms across his chest and looked at the damp, needle-covered ground.  
“Did you and Cajsa spend a lot of time together?”  
“Not really.”  
“Did you know her well?”  
“She was nice. She used to play video-games with me. I didn't own any, I used to sneak inside uncle Greger's house from the kitchen door and go play with her in her room. But it was ages ago.”  
“When did you last talk to her?”  
“I don't remember if I talked to her the day of the wedding.”  
“How about before. When did you last see her before the wedding?”  
Ture curled a lock of hair behind his ear, looking uncomfortable.  
“The weekend before the wedding, I think.”  
“What did you talk about?”  
“School. Nothing important.”  
“Did she seem worried?”  
Ture shook his head.  
“Do you remember if you ever lost track of what your father was doing, the day Cajsa disappeared?”  
“I haven't.”  
“Are you sure of it?”  
“He's got nothing to do with what happened.”  
“You do understand how this looks like...”  
“He's got nothing to do with what happened!”  
Repeated Ture, standing up and making all the components of the gun resting on his knees fall on the ground. He looked at Magnus with a look really similar to the one his father had shot him the day before in the shop, but less hateful, more desperate.  
Ture's face crumbled quickly, though. He stepped back, kneeling down and picking up the pieces. He clutched them against his chest and made to leave.  
“It's all right, you can stay. I'm going.”  
Ture nodded without looking at him.  
“I'm sorry I yelled at you.”  
“Don't worry about it.”  
Ture managed to smile a little. He sat down again and started polishing the gun all over again.

His mobile rang as he was making his way to the hunting cabin. Magnus actually jumped, surprised there was a signal.  
“Kurt?”  
“Where are you?”  
“I'm reaching you.”  
“I thought I'd talk with Ture. Go back to him and wait for me if you get there first.”  
“What was he like?”  
Asked Magnus, turning around and walking back.  
“Pål Olander? Hm. Creepy.”  
“Did you discover anything useful?”  
“Nothing really. Except that Pål Olander really doesn't like people to be around his son. You?”  
“I don't think it was Pål Olander.”  
“Why?”  
“Because of how Ture reacted when he understood what I was suggesting. He was indignant. Kids are calm when they lie, they give too much information. They get mad when they're accused unjustly, they lash out.”  
“So he knows his father did not kill her. That doesn't mean he doesn't know anything else. See you there.”  
“All right.”

Pål Olander didn't kill Cajsa Falk. Magnus knew that for sure. Ture hadn't lied, he was sure of that too. But maybe, he though, as he followed the path to the clearing where he'd last seen Ture, maybe he'd omitted something.  
Maybe his father wasn't the killer, but he was in some way involved, and Ture wanted to protect him.  
As he though that, and stepped in the clearing, he saw Ture Olander pointing a gun at Kurt's head.  
It took a second for him to process what he was looking at. He took his own gun out and pointed it at Ture, his eyes darting from the boy to Kurt and back.  
“Ture, drop your weapon.”  
He said. Ture turn to look at him. He shook his head.  
“He's going to tell everybody.”  
“Let him go, Ture.”  
“I can't.”  
“We can help you. If you just tell us what's wrong, what happened, we can help.”  
Ture shook his head again. His hands were steady, but it was clear he had no wish to shoot Kurt. He was scared. He was just scared. He would have done it already.  
“It wasn't your father, was it?”  
Ture looked at him.  
“You just wanted to protect him.”  
“Yes.”  
Sighed Ture, looking up, trying to blink away the tears.  
“It was all about you wasn't it? Cajsa wanted to help you. But you couldn't let her. You couldn't tell anybody your father hurt you and your mother, or something bad would happen to him.”  
Magnus swallowed, looking at Kurt, wondering why the fuck he couldn't just have waited for him, not even this time.  
“Why did you go to Stockholm before the wedding?”  
“It gets bad. Sometimes it gets really really bad, but it doesn't happen a lot, I swear.”  
“You asked for help.”  
“I didn't! I just wanted... I wanted it to stop for a while... just for a bit. I didn't tell her what... what he did... what he does to me. I didn't tell her. I just asked her if I could stay with her for a while.”  
“Why did you kill her?”  
Ture lowered the gun, not even worrying about the fat tears streaming down his cheeks.  
“I love him. I shouldn't. Not with all the things he's done to me. But I do.”  
“Of course you do. He's your dad.”  
Ture looked at Magnus.  
“This is not your fault. You get so used to the bad things, so used to the pain, that you begin to think it's the norm. That you think that's what you deserve, and you're thankful for every moment in which you don't feel any pain. Like it's a reward.”  
He felt Kurt's eyes burn against him, but didn't turn to look. He stared at Ture instead.  
“But that's not how it's supposed to be. You have the right to be happy, do you understand that?”  
Ture went still for a second, then raised the gun and pointed it against his own temple.  
“I can't be happy. Not without him. And I can't be happy with him either.”  
“You can be happy, Ture, I promise. I don't want to lie to you. You won't forget about it. But you can heal. I swear.”  
“Are you happy?”  
Magnus' eyes automatically looked for Kurt.  
“Yes.”  
He said.  
“Did you... did they hurt you too?”  
“Yes.”  
“Was it your father?”  
Magnus' ears were ringing. He looked back at Ture.  
“Yes.”  
“Did you love him too?”  
“I did.”  
“But you left.”  
“Yes.”  
“Why?”  
“Because staying would have killed me.”

Ture let go of the gun. It fell on the carpet of needles with a soft thump. Magnus walked forward, putting his gun back and wrapping his arms around Ture when he stepped towards him and hugged Magnus so tight it hurt him. He was sobbing quietly, Ture, shaking softly.  
Kurt stood up, looking at Magnus. It hurt, sustaining his gaze, but Magnus did it all the same, even when the tears started coming. He tried to ignore the shame bubbling inside his guts. There would be a time and a place to explain, but not now.

They walked in silence towards the hunting cabin. Kurt was walking behind Magnus and Ture, and Magnus tried not to wonder what he could be thinking about.  
When they arrived Ture ran a couple of steps ahead and opened the door, waiting for Magnus to reach him before actually stepping in.  
Magnus was sure he saw the precise moment when Pål Olander, seeing them all together, and then looking at his son's face, realised something was not as he'd planned.  
“It's all right.”  
Said Magnus, squeezing Ture's shoulder, reassuring. Ture nodded.  
“I don't know what the boy told you, but you shouldn't pay much attention to him.”  
Pål Olander's voice sounded like an hiss. Cold and sharp. Magnus felt Ture tense beside him.  
“He doesn't know what's best for him.”  
“I didn't lie.”  
Whispered Ture, his voice so weak Magnus almost didn't hear him.  
“I know.”  
“She was waiting for us on the steps outside. I went to change my shirt while she talked with dad. When I came back I heard what she was saying.”  
“What was she saying?”  
“That I needed help. That my dad was a monster. They would put him away, she said, and he would never see me again. She said they were going to hurt him.”  
Ture looked up at Magnus, looking for support. Magnus nodded, and Ture swallowed before going on.  
“I took the shotgun from the corridor. She was standing right here where we're standing. I knew she wouldn't back down. She was like that, Cajsa. Nobody could tell her what to do. She was strong. She'd left. She was so strong. I didn't want dad to get hurt, I couldn't let that happen. So I shot her.”  
“And where did you do with the body?”  
Asked Pål Olander, mocking.  
“What happened next?”  
Ture moved closer to Magnus.  
“You told me to wait here and threw her on the truck. I don't know what you did, you wouldn't tell me.”  
“You have a really active imagination.”  
“Dad, please.”  
“Nothing of what he just said ever happened. We came here, he got changed, we went back.”  
“Dad, I can't do this anymore.”  
“I don't know what you're talking about.”  
“All of it! I can't do any of it anymore! I'm tired, and I'm always scared, _please_.”  
“This is not a big island, mister Olander. We can ask around if anybody remembers seeing your truck that day. I'm pretty sure everybody remembers it; it doesn't look like there's much happening on Aska Island on daily basis...”  
“And we could call your wife, too. Ask her just what kind of man you are.”  
Murmured Kurt, low and dangerous.  
“I've never raised a hand on my son.”  
Ture shook his head.  
“Just tell them, tell them!”  
He yelled. Pål Olander's shield finally seemed to come down. He looked at Magnus.  
“Could you give us a minute?”  
Magnus nodded, but he only moved out in the corridor, where he could still keep an eye on them. Kurt followed him.  
They stood there in silence as Pål Olander talked to his son, only loud enough for him to hear. Ture kept shaking his head, so Pål Olander cupped it with his hands to keep him still and force him to look up. He talked slowly, stopping from time to time and waiting for Ture to nod, which he did. Except for the last question Pål Olander asked him. He was holding his father's wrists, Ture, as they spoke. After shaking his head he got on his tip-toes and pressed a little kiss against Pål Olander's lips, then moved away.  
“Ture.”  
His father called him, but Ture didn't look back. He stepped past Magnus, who gave Pål Olander a last look before following Ture along the corridor.  
Kurt opened the door, turned around. When he raised his eyes he suddenly looked scared. Magnus froze, and Ture threw himself towards him, grabbing Magnus' gun, raising it and shooting with such speed Magnus barely realised what was going on.  
When he turned around Pål Olander was on the floor, a gun clutched in his hand, a pool of blood growing underneath him. Ture let go of the gun and ran to his father, kneeling down beside him. He held his hand as the man convulsed and his eyes rolled back. The scream he let out when Pål Olander stopped moving had more animal than man in it.

The nearest police station was on the mainland. They had to wait two hours before anybody could reach them. They waited in the chalet, in complete silence. Ture couldn't stop shaking, and Kurt kept sending Magnus little worried looks. He was waiting for them to be alone. Magnus was starting to be afraid of that moment.  
The police officer they talked to was called Alena Lundqvist. She listened carefully to what they said, told them she would take care of Ture until the eventual trial.  
They were only finally alone when she took Ture to the station. He hugged Magnus and shot Kurt a look that Magnus didn't understand. He looked so little and lost as he walked between Alena Lundqvist and another officer. Magnus almost wanted to follow them, to keep an eye on him until he was completely sure he was going to be all right.  
“What are they going to do to him?”  
“Probably get a psychiatric evaluation first. To see how reliable he is. Then... I'm not sure.”  
Magnus sat down at the kitchen table.  
“I suppose we need to talk.”  
Kurt nodded, not looking at him. His hands were both closed in fists, as if to keep them from shaking. His knuckles had gone white. Magnus stood back up, reached Kurt and touched his hand.  
“Kurt?”  
He turned around, looking up at Magnus. He had such a deeply sad expression, raw and vulnerable, Magnus felt his heart break just looking at him. Then, suddenly, something feral and dangerous seemed to contaminate his eyes.  
“What did he do to you?”  
Magnus didn't really know how to answer that. He'd thought about telling Kurt so many times, and now everything he'd planned seemed to have disappeared from his memory.  
“Did he...?”  
He couldn't seem to bring himself to ask, but his eyes looked like steel.  
“No, Kurt. My father was a crazy bastard, but not that particular kind of crazy.”  
Kurt sighed with relief, the bloodthirsty look on his face fading and his eyes filling up with tears.  
“Oh God...”  
“Sit down, Kurt.”  
He nodded, looking slightly dizzy, and obeyed.

“I know I've been the one telling you that if something was wrong you could tell me. I'm sorry I didn't tell you right away. I wanted to. But I also didn't. I wanted no secrets between us, but... I didn't want it to change what we had.”  
The snow had started falling again. The fire was crackling, making their shadows dance against the walls.  
“He was a sadistic bastard. I only realised it once I got out of it. My whole life I thought that was the norm. That all kids got beat up to hard they could barely stand up, they just didn't talk about it. It would make them weak. I thought I was weak, not being able to stand it.”  
Kurt intertwined their fingers together, gently, brushing his thumb against the back of Magnus' hand.  
“The things he said to me. He kept reminding me how useless I was. Worthless. I grew up alone, thinking I was nothing. That's probably why the fact you were always a step before me used to bother me so much. I felt like I had something to prove. It wasn't until rather recently that I realised I'm the only one I have to please.”  
“Why didn't you tell anybody?”  
“Back when I was a kid nobody would have believed me. My mother wouldn't have backed me up. I love her, of course I do, but I also loathe how weak she's always been. Being so much in love to let somebody hurt you? I can understand that. But not enough to let somebody hurt the ones I love. I can't even conceive that. And once I left for the academy, well, it didn't matter any more.”  
“It does matter. He should be punished for what he's done.”  
Magnus felt Kurt's grip tighten. He smiled at him.  
“It doesn't. You should see him now. He came to Ystad years ago. I'd just arrived to the station. My mother had given him my address. He came to ask for forgiveness. He looked so small, Kurt, so old and insignificant. He said he'd found God. He said if God could forgive him so could I.”  
“What did you tell him?”  
“That God hadn't forgiven him. He just hadn't judged him yet.”  
Magnus shook his head.  
“He can't hurt me any more. He has to live with what he's done, I don't. I'm fine, Kurt. I'm not broken, I don't need help. I saved myself the day I turned my back to him.”  
“If there's anything you need me to do...”  
“Just cuddle with me when I ask you to.”  
Smiled Magnus. Kurt smiled back, his eyes still glistening. 

They got home the day after. Kurt had let Magnus sleep while he explained to Adela what they had discovered, so Magnus wasn't sure what her reaction had been.  
They still didn't know where the body had been buried. Magnus felt like he'd cheated, like he hadn't really been able to free Cajsa as he would have liked to. But at least now they knew.  
Their house looked so empty without Jussi jumping around, but they were both too tired to drive to Ystad and pick her up. It smelled like home, though, like lavender floor cleaner and lemon-scented washing-up soap, like tea and burnt wood.  
Kurt threw his bag on the floor and grabbed Magnus by the collar, pulling him closer and starting to take off his clothes.  
“Kurt...”  
“Shower. Hot shower. Then bed. Yes?”  
Magnus grinned and leaned to kiss him. He was so tired he only managed to kiss the tip of his nose, but whatever.  
Magnus' hair was still damp when he managed to get in his pyjamas and collapsed on the bed. Kurt threw a towel at his head and climbed on the bed, sitting next to Magnus and started drying his hair lazily.  
“Lisa called.”  
“Is she angry?”  
“We did notify the Örnsköldsvik police what we were doing. We'll still have to do the paperwork ourselves.”  
“Hate paperwork.”  
Mumbled Magnus, turning on his side and resting his head on Kurt's lap. His thoughts were starting to drift everywhere at once. Kurt felt so comfortable...

Kurt's hand was resting warmly against Magnus' back.  
Magnus turned towards him and moved closer. He felt Kurt pulling him against him, his eyes still closed but a little smirk on his lips. Magnus kissed the smirk until it turned into an actual smile.  
“Do you need cuddling right now?”  
Whispered Kurt, against Magnus' lips.  
“Hm. Not precisely cuddling...”  
He threw a leg over Kurt's waist, rubbing himself against him.

Kurt's hand grabbed Magnus', busy gripping the covers tightly. He intertwined their fingers as he leaned to kiss Magnus' shoulder, then the nape of his neck, which filled Magnus with shivers.  
He could feel his cock twitch, trapped between his belly and the mattress, but he was so comfortable he couldn't be bothered with manoeuvring around to get himself off, so he just groped randomly with his free hand until he reached Kurt's hip, and urged him forward.  
He wasn't moving fast, Kurt, but deeply, steadily. Magnus let out a little moan and pushed back. Kurt put a hand on his back and pushed him down.  
“Easy.”  
He laughed. Magnus grunted and pushed his head against the pillow.  
It took a while before Magnus' body decided what Kurt was doing wasn't just mildly entertaining but actually good, and only then Kurt fastened his rhythm, making Magnus moan and squirm restlessly.  
“Patience...”  
Said Kurt, grabbing a handful of Magnus' hair and making him tilt his head for a kiss.  
Magnus wanted to tell him off, but he was right. The pleasure now coiling in his lower belly had built up slowly, but now it felt so good.  
He started rubbing against the mattress, trying to coordinate his movements with Kurt's, which, as far as he was concerned, were too bloody slow.  
“More...”  
Magnus felt Kurt giggle before he leaned to kiss his head.  
“I didn't hear that.”  
“God, I hate you so much...”  
Kurt slammed his hips into Magnus and he gasped.  
“I was joking, I love you very much, damn it.”  
“That's better.”  
Kurt straightened up, positioned his hands against Magnus' hips.  
“Tell me what you need.”  
“I can't believe I need to spell it out for you, you grumpy old bastard.”  
Grinned Magnus, straightening up himself and leaning backwards against Kurt, brushing his nose against Kurt's cheek.  
“I want you to fuck me good and hard.”  
He reached backwards, placing a hand on the back of Kurt's head as he leaned to kiss Magnus' neck.  
“That wasn't that difficult, now, was it?”  
He started thrusting into him, hard. Magnus closed his eyes, panting and moaning and arching against him. He wrapped a hand around his cock, and Kurt moaned in protest. Magnus ignored him, stroking quickly, and Kurt grabbed his wrist, making him let go and substituting his fast rhythm to a slower and steadier one.  
But Kurt was obviously doing something right, because Magnus came so hard, a couple of seconds later, that his head started spinning and he fell back on the bed, on his elbows, letting Kurt fuck him into the mattress, wringing out every last drop of come from his cock with slow jerks of his hand.  
“Can I keep going?”  
Kurt murmured, against Magnus' neck. Magnus nodded weakly, extending his arms under the pillows and pushing the side of his head against the mattress as Kurt kept moving inside him in quick, shallow thrusts. He pulled out before coming, and spilled all over the small of Magnus' back. Magnus raised his head to take a look, raised an eyebrow at Kurt.  
“You're getting kinkier as you get older.”  
He bit his lower lip. Kurt leaned down to kiss him, brief and chaste.  
“I like that.”  
Breathed Magnus, against Kurt's mouth. Kurt kissed him again, but there was definitely nothing chaste about it the second time around.

“Yes. All right. Thanks for keeping us updated.”  
Kurt hung up and threw his phone on the night-table with an extreme lack of delicateness. He cuddled behind Magnus, fitting his butt in the space between his thighs and stomach and pressing the balls of his feet against Magnus' Achilles tendons.  
“They found the body.”  
He spoke against the spot between Magnus' shoulder-blades. Magnus felt his voice vibrate against his skin.  
“Did they? How?”  
“They traced the truck. Apparently it was seen around the graveyard, that day. Alena Lundqvist had the idea to check if anybody had been buried around the time of the wedding, and found out a woman had died on an island nearby. Aska Island is the biggest one, all the islands in the archipelago use its graveyard. They dug down, found Cajsa on top of the casket. Nobody had noticed anything weird because the ground was supposed to have been disturbed in the first place.”  
“So she's going to leave the island after all.”  
“Hopefully.”  
Magnus nodded thoughtfully. He thought of Ture, for the first time completely free, but also unequivocally lost, with no idea what was expecting him.  
He turned around, snuggling against Kurt and holding him closer.  
“I'm going to need those cuddles now.”


End file.
